Rumor Has It
by Bindy417
Summary: Rumor has it that Queen Consolidated CEO Oliver Queen is having a steamy affair with his new executive assistant, Felicity Smoak. Set in Season 2, this collection of key moments told through outsiders' points of view chronicles how the office gossip of Oliver and Felicity's "relationship" began and spread throughout the company like wildfire.
1. Chapter 1: Short Skirts, Long Looks

**Rumor Has It**

By Bindy417

 **Summary:** Rumor has it that Queen Consolidated CEO Oliver Queen is having a steamy affair with his new executive assistant, Felicity Smoak. Set in Season 2, this collection of key moments told through outsiders' points of view chronicles how the office gossip of Oliver and Felicity's "relationship" began and spread throughout the company like wildfire.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own _Arrow_ or any of its characters. They belong to The CW and DC Comics.

 **A/N:** Hey guys, so this idea has been rattling around in my head for a while now. I tweeted last week that I wished we could've seen Season 2 from other people's perspectives to learn how the Olicity affair rumors got started. It's one of my favorite aspects of Season 2. Inspiration recently struck, and I decided to go ahead and start this mini fic. It'll be five chapters total, featuring different characters observing Olicity. Special thank you to SassySnow1988 for reading the first draft and giving me valuable feedback. I hope you all enjoy it. Please read and review!

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 **Chapter 1: Short Skirts, Long Looks**

Wednesday was by far Stacey Stanzler's favorite day of the week. It could've been attributed to the fact that it was free bagel day in the office; that, for some reason, her inbox wasn't usually as full; or that she and her girlfriends always met up at the bar around the corner after work for hump day happy hour—in which drinks were half price (yay!)—to share and vent about the state of their personal lives and burgeoning careers. They were all valid reasons for her uplifted spirits. None, however, were _the_ reason Stacey was so excited for it to be Wednesday. No, the actual source of her eagerness wouldn't be appearing until approximately—she checked the clock in the break room—ten minutes. That's when she'd be following her boss—the vice president of marketing for the Applied Sciences division at Queen Consolidated—up to the executive level, where they'd have their weekly meeting with the CEO and a few heads of other departments to discuss ad campaigns and PR for upcoming product launches.

Aside from the minutes Stacey would have to record and then type to send out to the group as a recap, the meeting itself was rather dull. The real highlight wasn't in what was being discussed but _who_ it was being discussed with. Oliver Queen, the new CEO of QC, was as sexy in person as he was on the tabloid and magazine covers that lined the checkout aisles in the supermarket. While other men were considered eye candy, he was a full-course meal.

Although Oliver was a few years older than her, Stacey knew all about his reputation. He'd been the heir to the Queen fortune and a typical billionaire playboy when he was younger—constantly partying and getting into trouble with both booze and women. That was until he and his father, Robert Queen, the former CEO, were involved in a horrible accident at sea. Their yacht sank in a storm, and authorities believed everyone perished. Then, five years later, Oliver was miraculously found and rescued. It was all anyone could talk about for months. Everyone waited for Oliver to make some kind of statement or do sit-down interviews to reveal what had happened. But other than the minor details he gave of the shipwreck at his court appearance—in which his legally dead status was reversed—nothing else had come out.

There'd been one incident at the grand opening of the new Robert Queen Applied Sciences building. Oliver had shown up and made a drunken speech about how he wasn't his father and didn't want to follow in his footsteps by taking over at QC. It'd been a minor scandal until he was accused not long after of being a dangerous vigilante known as The Hood who targeted the rich and roamed the streets fighting crime. It was ridiculous in Stacey's opinion, and she wasn't surprised when Oliver had quickly been released and all charges were dropped.

He wasn't in the papers again until The Undertaking occurred. A man-made earthquake rocked the entire city, which turned out to be an evil plot hatched by Malcolm Merlyn—an old Queen family friend and businessman—and Oliver's mother, Moira Queen. Although Moira claimed she only went along with it because she and her children's lives were threatened, the middle-aged matriarch was currently on trial for conspiracy and multiple counts of murder. Her charges and absence as CEO left QC vulnerable, and the company was almost taken over by Stellmoor International.

Not much had been heard from Oliver over the summer. After the media reported that Tommy Merlyn, his best friend, died in The Undertaking, Oliver seemed to disappear completely. Only a couple of months ago he'd returned to Starling City and secured funds to save his family's company. He'd gone from wanting nothing to do with his family's legacy to stepping up and taking it over completely. Well, maybe not completely since he owned the same amount of stock as Stellmoor's vice president of acquisitions, Isabel Rochev. Oliver was still CEO, but Isabel retained a say in how QC was run. Isabel was a smart businesswoman with an icy and often disdainful demeanor. Stacey liked to watch and see what she could learn from her professionally, but she mostly tried to avoid dealing with Isabel directly as much as possible.

Oliver wasn't as proficient in business. He often missed meetings or arrived to them late. He also kept odd hours, which meant almost all correspondence went through his assistant, Felicity Smoak. The petite blonde had previously worked in the IT department. As such her promotion had come as a shock to many, and it wasn't long before rumors started that something was going on between Oliver and her. The few times he'd visited QC in the past, he'd been spotted either going in or coming out of her work space.

Stacey could understand why some people thought that considering Oliver's reputation, but she personally didn't buy into it. Felicity might've been a pretty blonde, but she was far from Oliver's type. She constantly had her hair pulled back into a no-nonsense ponytail, and she wore nerdy black-rimmed glasses. Not to mention that she talked a mile a minute and way too much. Felicity was a horrible babbler. Stacey couldn't ever imagine Oliver wanting to stay around her for too long, but she supposed Felicity's overactive verbal ability came in handy when dealing with people demanding his attention.

Stacey had also heard that Felicity refused to even get Oliver coffee. Angela, another assistant in accounting, said she'd run into Felicity at the coffee machine once. When she'd made a joke about them slaving away just so their bosses could get their caffeine fix, Felicity had muttered that the coffee was for herself and if Oliver wanted a cup, then he could get up off of his physically-fit butt and pour it himself.

Angela assumed the "physically-fit butt" remark had to mean the two were sleeping together. How else would she know what his butt was like? Stacey, nevertheless, reminded her that it didn't take a genius to figure out that Oliver Queen had an amazing ass. The way his broad frame filled out his suit was proof enough. It wasn't too tight, and yet left little to the imagination. And if they were having an affair, why would Felicity be so disgruntled about getting him coffee? She'd be used to giving him a lot of things…

In addition to her refusing to make Oliver coffee—which Stacey never would've been able get away with if it was her boss—there were other odd instances, too. Felicity often zoned out at her desk while she typed. It would take a few tries for visitors to get her attention. Then there were the inopportune times she'd interrupt Oliver, whether he was chatting casually with employees or in a meeting, to tell him something completely obscure. Stacey had witnessed it a few times herself. Once, Felicity had cut into a conversation between her boss and Oliver to inform him that his bodyguard, Mr. Diggle, had an update on artwork he was interested in. Something about a bronze tiger statue and white china. Why Mr. Diggle—who was an incredibly large and intimidating man—would be looking into fancy art collections and need Oliver's immediate attention was beyond Stacey's understanding. Oliver appeared to take it in stride, but she doubted his patience would hold. She'd bet good money that Felicity Smoak would be gone before the end of the year.

That's exactly why Stacey did everything she could to impress Oliver—or "Mr. Queen" as she called him in person—during the weekly meeting. When she brought coffee to her boss, she made sure to get one for Oliver, too. She handed it to him directly just so he was aware that she was what an assistant should be—thoughtful, attentive, and prepared. One time his pen had run out of ink, and she'd given him an extra that she always had on her.

Stacey also sent him the meeting minutes personally. Sometimes in the message she'd add a compliment about a point he'd brought up. He at least knew her name now, because he'd smiled and greeted her with it last week. Okay, so maybe he'd actually called her Tracey, but he'd been close. It was slow but still promising progress. She wanted to be at the top of his mind in the event he needed a new—better—assistant.

Being executive assistant to the CEO was no small thing. Having a direct line to Oliver Queen would do wonders for her career. If she did well—and she _would_ —Stacey could have any job she wanted in the company after a couple of years. And if during all those long hours working together Oliver just so happened to fall madly in love with her and propose on the spot, she'd be okay with that, too.

Stacey was jolted from her fantasy when the elevator dinged. She stepped out onto the executive floor and approached the double glass doors leading to Oliver's private offices. Felicity, unsurprisingly, typed at her desk with a pair of headphones in her ears. Stacey didn't even bother saying hello. She simply rolled her eyes at the blonde's obliviousness and went on her way.

The other members of the meeting were already in the conference room next to Oliver's office. Stacey felt a pang of disappointment upon seeing Oliver's seat empty. He was running late, hence preventing her from directly handing him his coffee. A quick thinker, Stacey grabbed a post-it and jotted down a friendly little note and signed it. She stuck the coffee cup on top to make sure Oliver would see it.

Isabel cleared her throat, and the room settled. Almost the entire table was occupied, making Oliver's empty chair that much more obvious. The stern brunette reached for the phone and paged Felicity. Her first couple of attempts at gaining the preoccupied blonde's attention were futile. Isabel's voice was normally quiet and steady; her third attempt was still rather low, but the equivalent of shouting for Isabel.

"Oh, uh, what?" Felicity finally answered. She sounded as if she was coming out of a trance.

What could possibly require her to concentrate that hard? Shouldn't scheduling be a breeze for someone who was supposedly so smart?

"Where is Mr. Queen? Will he be joining us?" Isabel's questions sounded more like accusations.

Stacey watched through the glass as Felicity checked her phone. "Mr. Queen is on his way. He had some business to attend to with…um…a friend who's—you know what, never mind. He just walked in." Her relief was evident.

On his way to the conference room, Oliver stopped at Felicity's desk. He held out a bag of Big Belly Burger to her. How sweet! Stacey wished her boss would bring her lunch. Felicity didn't know how lucky she was, and it just made the fact that she couldn't get the guy a decent cup of coffee even worse.

As Oliver placed the bag on her desk, he leaned down to whisper something in her ear. Whatever he was saying brought a smile to the blonde's face, which she quickly hid when he pulled back. Her brow scrunched in a serious frown, and she nodded back at him.

Just as Oliver turned to leave, Felicity got to her feet and beckoned him forward. She reached up to fix his tie and patted it in place. They stared silently at each other, and somehow it looked like they were having another whole conversation. It lasted longer than was probably appropriate, and Stacey shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Why did she feel like it was an intrusion to watch?

A second later, Felicity returned to her desk and began typing in another furious frenzy on her computer. Oliver finally made it to the conference room.

"Sorry I'm late," Oliver apologized and took his seat. "Other urgent business ran long."

"Felicity said you were with a friend," Isabel stated, staring him down.

"A friend who owns a business," he vaguely replied. "Let's begin, shall we?"

"Did you have time to read through the P-and-L reports I sent you?"

"I skimmed through them."

Isabel wasn't happy with that answer either, but the meeting at last commenced. In between taking the minutes, Stacey kept peeking over at Oliver. He had yet to touch his coffee or read her note. His attention shifted between the papers in front of him and the clock on the wall. He'd just arrived. Was he already so eager to leave?

"Ugh, sorry. Either the computer or projector doesn't seem to be working," said Greg, the product manager of Applied Sciences. He had some slides to share, but the screen remained blank. No signal came through.

"Stacey," her boss, Edmond, called, "maybe you can figure out the problem."

Stacey was thrilled. Another moment to shine in front of Oliver and show her usefulness. She sprang out of her seat and began to fiddle with the laptop. She'd have the problem fixed in no time. A couple of minutes later, however, Isabel let out an impatient huff and still nothing projected onto the screen. Stacey felt a mild sense of panic.

"It's probably the projector. I can call maintenance to come and take a look," she suggested.

"No need. I'll get Felicity. IT is her area of expertise," Oliver stated and pressed the call button on the phone.

Stacey immediately deflated, though she was careful to keep her expression polite, and retook her seat at the center of the table. Unlike Isabel, Oliver quickly gained Felicity's attention. She entered the conference room and, after hearing the problem, set to work. The previous conversation continued as they all waited. Instead of looking at the clock, Oliver's gaze kept shifting to Felicity. He must've been wondering why it was taking her so long.

"I already checked the computer." Stacey tried not to smirk. So much for the former IT girl being good with technology. "It's on the right setting."

"I'm checking for viruses and errors," Felicity answered, barely sparing her a glance.

The blonde then stretched across the table, and Stacey frowned. What was she doing? With her butt partially in the air and her skirt—somewhat short, in Stacey's opinion—riding up, she looked absolutely obscene. Stacey glanced at Oliver, expecting to see him cringing or rubbing his hand over his eyes in irritation or embarrassment. Instead, she found him staring—directly at Felicity's butt. It was a quick once-over, from bottom to top and back again, but she'd caught it. Stacey's pen paused on the paper.

The blonde had been reaching for the projector control across the table. She pushed a few buttons and nodded, mostly to herself, when nothing happened. Turning to Oliver—and interrupting Isabel mid-sentence—she said, "The computer is bug free. I think it's the projector itself. Nothing is wrong with the computer setup. The signal is going out, but the machine isn't picking it up. I can fix it, though."

Isabel's eyes narrowed, and she curtly replied, "Then do it."

Felicity nodded and smiled politely in return, though it was clearly strained. The other gossip floating around was that Isabel and Felicity didn't like each other. Stacey figured it was safe to assume that was true. The blonde walked to the center of the table, right next to Stacey, and proceeded to take her shoes off.

"Felicity, what are you doing?" Oliver questioned when she suddenly lifted herself onto the table. Isabel was interrupted yet again, and Stacey paused in her note taking. The rest of the room looked on in curious silence.

"I have to look inside the projector." The small box was suspended over the center of the table. "Therefore, I need to be on the table. And I can't effectively balance on the table if I'm in high heels."

"Be careful," Oliver warned before jumping out of his seat to join her. He stood as close to Felicity as the wide table would allow. Although his hands remained by his sides, his body looked ready to spring into action at any moment should she lose her balance.

"I don't need the projector that badly," Greg piped up.

"I'm already up here," Felicity replied. "Besides, it saves me from having to create another office maintenance request that'll most likely be ignored." She opened the panel door to the projector and started fiddling with some wires as Edmond took his turn to speak.

"Pen," Felicity said to Oliver. Without any explanation needed, he handed her one of Stacey's extras on the table. She used it to move around some wires. Despite the conversation going on around him, Oliver never took his eyes off of Felicity. Stacey begrudgingly jotted down more notes, praying her utter annoyance wasn't so obvious.

"Yes, got it!" Felicity exclaimed a couple of minutes later. She fist-pumped into the air. The picture on the screen flickered before the presentation appeared.

She smiled down at Oliver, who was already smiling up at her. His pride was evidenced by his wide, dimpled grin. Stacey had never seen him light up like that, let alone smile so broadly.

"Nice work," Oliver complimented and reached up to grab her. There was no hesitation or awkwardness at all to figure out the mechanics of the situation. He took hold of Felicity's waist while she placed her hands on his shoulders. He gently helped her down off of the table, their bodies brushing together just before her feet touched the ground.

"Uh, thanks," Felicity murmured and bit her lip. Unless it was from being so close to the hot, running projector, her pink cheeks gave away her blush.

Oliver didn't say anything. With a brief nod, he took a step back. But since Stacey was sitting right next to them, she noticed from her angle that he didn't completely let Felicity go. His hand remained on the small of her back as she slipped her shoes on and steadied herself. Felicity moved to leave while Oliver returned to his seat.

"If there are no more interruptions—" Isabel began.

"Oh, Oliv—" Felicity cleared her throat and started again. "Mr. Queen, one quick matter." She placed a hand on his shoulder and halted him. "That toy charity I researched will probably be needing more _dolls_. It's about the time they'll be putting in another order. Should I reach out to your friend again to discuss the details of the materials? I think I might have a way to prevent him from going overkill."

Stacey stared between the pair. It was the same look she'd witnessed before the meeting, when the two seemed to be having a conversation without actually saying anything.

"Yes," Oliver finally said. "Set up another meeting later this evening. It can't wait."

"Why, Mr. Queen, I had no idea you have such an interest in children's toys. Although I would've pegged you for a Tonka Truck man rather than baby dolls," Isabel chided, earning low titters from the others. "If it can't wait, I assume you'll at least be on time for that meeting."

Despite the dig, Oliver's smile was as charming as ever. "Just doing my part to help revive the city."

"One dollhouse at a time."

"I can get you one if you'd like. It'd do wonders for cheering up your office." Felicity added, "The _feng shui_ doesn't seem to be working."

There were a few snickers around the table. Stacey waited for Oliver to scold Felicity for her snarky remark, but he said nothing.

Isabel wasn't amused. "No, thank you. I don't like fake things. I find them creepy."

Smiling, Felicity mumbled under her breath, "Takes one to know one."

Stacey thought she was the only one to hear, because she was so close. But the corner of Oliver's mouth also twitched. Was he actually amused by her comment and trying not to laugh?

"Thank you for your help, Felicity. That'll be all for now," he casually dismissed her. He touched her hand still on his shoulder. As Felicity pulled hers away, their fingers glided against each other until the growing distance as she left separated them.

Stacey did her best afterward to concentrate on the details of the meeting, but it was a struggle. She was disappointed; her plan to swoop in and take Felicity's job was shot to hell. Stacey didn't know how she'd missed all the staring, intensely silent conversations, and touching between Oliver and Felicity before, but there was no unseeing it now. Something was going on. If the pair wasn't already sleeping together, then it wouldn't be long before they started. No wonder Felicity favored short skirts; they were a surefire way to get Oliver's attention and keep it. Stacey had to tell Angela that she was right—and give her twenty dollars in the bet she just lost.


	2. Chapter 2: The Bitter Pill

**Hey guys, thank you so much for your reviews and enthusiasm last chapter. As I mentioned before, there will be five chapters total featuring a new POV and each will take place during a particular episode of _Arrow_ in Season 2. You can figure out the timeline by the small hints within the text. ;) I really hope you like this next one. I loved writing it, and special thanks to SassySnow1988 for reading over the first draft and giving me helpful guidance. Enjoy!**

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 **Chapter 2: The Bitter Pill**

Tonight the star of his fantasies was going to say yes. Mark was sure of it. After weeks of inane chitchat and shameless flirting in the elevator at the office—not to mention the cafeteria lunch line and the Starbucks down the street from Queen Consolidated where they both worked—he had Felicity Smoak exactly where he wanted her. The former IT girl turned assistant to the CEO liked to play hard to get with her "nerdy girl" persona, but he knew better. Felicity's black-rimmed glasses and sleek ponytail might be her obvious attempt to allude to her intelligence, but her always perfectly painted bright pink lips, short skirts, and sexy heels were evidence of a tomcat waiting to be let out of her cage—and Mark was just the guy to help her find that release.

This very afternoon he'd overheard Felicity on the phone talking about how she'd be at Verdant later tonight. Verdant was a nightclub formerly owned by her boss, Oliver Queen. Before taking over his family's company as CEO, Queen had opened the club in The Glades and it'd quickly become one of the hottest spots in the city. It was located in one of the few areas not destroyed by the Undertaking, which had been orchestrated by the now deceased Malcolm Merlyn and Queen's currently incarcerated mother, Moira Queen.

In spite of the bad PR, Mark heard that the club was doing better than ever since Queen's younger sister had taken it over in his absence. Apparently, hiring the right DJs and serving copious amounts of overpriced yet top-quality alcohol was enough to keep it in business. Mark had never really cared to check it out—he'd been dead set against giving any of his money to a spoiled, rich little prick like Oliver Queen—but tonight was an exception if Felicity would be there. Working for Queen probably got her through the door free of charge. Nevertheless, it would be the perfect opportunity to shed the confines of the office and let loose.

Mark stood at the bar with two of his friends nursing his second beer. It was a new kind of brew with an unusually high alcohol content, so he was already feeling a pretty good buzz. He joked with the guys and flirted with a few women here and there in between searching for Felicity. Checking his phone, he saw that it was almost ten o'clock.

"Dude, I can't believe you let that redhead walk away. She was hot," his friend Jordan shouted over the thumping techno music.

His other friend, Kyle, nodded in agreement. "What's up with you tonight?"

"I'm waiting for someone," Mark replied.

"Waiting for who? Are you meeting a date here tonight? Is she bringing friends?" Jordan asked, nudging Kyle who looked just as excited by the prospect.

"It's not a date exactly. It's a girl from work who said she'd be here."

"Work?" Kyle retorted, sounding utterly disappointed.

"Is she hot?"

Mark rolled his eyes. "Is that all you care about?"

"Yes," he replied, unashamed. "So is she?"

"Yeah, she's hot." He scanned the crowd again.

"What does she look like?"

"Short and blonde with a great ass. She used to work in IT, but she got promoted to assistant to the CEO. Working for Queen, she's got her hands in every part of the company."

"If she works for Oliver Queen, I'd assume he's already had his hands on every part of her," Kyle joked. "How else does a hot IT girl get a job like that?"

That's what most people at QC had been speculating, but Mark didn't tell his friend that. "She's really smart. She helped get rid of the bugs in our new CRM system last year." No one else in the IT department had been able to figure out what was wrong until Felicity took it over.

"So she's a nerd," Jordan assumed.

"A _hot_ nerd," he corrected. "I doubt she's getting any from Queen, though. She's wound up way too tight."

Felicity was constantly in a state of upheaval in the office. Her movements were just as quick as her babbles. Sometimes she'd wave her hands around while going off on random tangents in the middle of a conversation before rounding back to the main point. Lucky for Felicity, it came off kind of cute—when experienced in small doses, at least.

Kyle elbowed him and wriggled his eyebrows. "Are you looking for a good lay or a promotion?"

Mark smirked. "Why can't it be both?"

He really did like Felicity. That nervous energy that turned some other people off actually enticed him—especially when a few of her casual comments actually came out sounding quite dirty. Once, when they'd been waiting for their drinks at Starbucks, Felicity mentioned that she liked her lattes hot and creamy with an extra squirt. Mark had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing out loud at that one. It also gave him a few ideas of his own.

Besides the attraction and suggestive comments, it couldn't hurt to get on Felicity's good side. As executive assistant to the CEO, that meant she knew lots of higher-ups in the company. Mark had made sales manager of his department last year, and he hoped to land the vice president position when his boss eventually retired. Showing Felicity Smoak a good time might come in handy for his future career. A good word from her with Queen or HR could go a long way for him.

"I'm bored just standing here," Jordan complained. "I need a pick-me-up." He reached into his pocket and glanced from side to side, making sure no one was watching. Then he popped a small white pill into his mouth and guzzled it down with beer.

"What's that?" Kyle demanded. "Is your dealer pushing Vertigo again? You holding out on us, man?"

Mark's ears perked up at the mention of Vertigo. He and his friends used to do it every weekend when they went out. There was nothing quite like the high it gave. The worst day of his life could turn into the best one ever in a matter of minutes. His senses became heightened and made his body pulsate with pure, euphoric ecstasy. The mind was suddenly free, and all was right in the world.

"I told you Vertigo ended when that crazy Hood guy put the Count in a psych ward. But this is the second best thing."

"You got any more on you?" Kyle questioned.

"Of course I do. You know I always bring party favors." Jordan reached into his pocket again and discreetly handed them the pills.

Mark hesitated despite the overwhelming craving that roared to life within him. It had been a while since he used, and he remembered how awful it was coming down off of Vertigo. His body ached and shook while his mind thought relentlessly about how to get more before the total supply was gone. Even though this drug was a lesser version, it could just as well set him off on another drug-induced spiral—and that guy wasn't always fun to be around. Instead, Mark pocketed the pill.

Jordan frowned. "You're not going to take it?"

"Not right now." He needed to keep a clear head with Felicity, and that wouldn't be possible if he was both buzzed and high.

Tuning out his increasingly rambunctious friends, Mark meticulously scanned the crowd until finally he saw her. Felicity—still wearing the bright yellow sleeveless top, pink skirt, and heels she had on that day at the office—weaved through the crowd. Mark immediately stood at attention and ran a hand through his hair, which he'd recently decided to grow out. The ladies loved a man with a good head of hair; he'd bet his salary that Felicity was the type to yank on it while in the throes of passion.

Mark sprang forward, calling her name. "Felicity! Felicity!" He frowned when she bypassed the bar, clutching her purse and weaving between the rowdy club goers, and walked toward a corridor off to the left. He hastened to catch her. "Felicity!"

The blonde paused and glanced over her shoulder. "Mark?"

Time to turn on the charm. "Hey, gorgeous. Fancy running into you here."

"Quite the coincidence." Instead of the smile he expected, she seemed distracted. Felicity peeked over at the corridor once more.

"So, can I buy you a drink?" he offered, hoping to capture her full attention.

Her eyes widened in surprise behind her glasses. "Oh, um…" Felicity hesitated. "Thanks, but I probably shouldn't."

"Aw, come on. We're off the clock. It's the perfect time to loosen up and relax. Maybe let that ponytail down," Mark coaxed, nudging her playfully.

She blushed and bit her bottom lip, drawing his eyes to her luscious mouth. With a little more persuading, he had no doubt that mouth would be on multiple parts of his body later tonight. He leaned in, smiling, about to tug on her ponytail when a shadow loomed next to them.

"Felicity, what's going on here?" a deep, gruff voice demanded.

Felicity jumped slightly and immediately took a step back from him.

Mark recognized that voice despite its sterner than usual tone. "Mr. Queen," he greeted, clearing the lump in his throat. "I didn't see you there."

Queen barely returned the greeting. His razor-sharp eyes focused in on him before shifting to Felicity with a questioning stare. Mark straightened to match his height and puffed out his chest. Queen wasn't the only one who knew how to make himself appear larger than life—although the massive man who stood behind him looked bigger than them both combined. He must be Queen's bodyguard if his equally intimidating gaze was any indication.

"Oli—Mr. Queen, this is Mark Thompson," Felicity introduced. "He works in Sales at QC. We just happened to bump into each other."

She bit her lip again, but Mark's ogling didn't last long. Queen's eyes narrowed, as did his bodyguard's.

Keeping his voice casual, Mark said, "Felicity and I are always running into each other at the coffee shop or in the cafeteria. She's also bailed me out of a few IT catastrophes in the past. I thought I'd show my appreciation by offering to get her a drink since she's off the clock—or I assumed she was."

Oliver raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.

Felicity quickly jumped in. "That's really sweet, Mark, but I actually have to accompany Oli—Mr. Queen into the office to, uh, help him with, um, the inventory system. Yeah, the inventory system has been a little wonky lately."

"Oh, I thought the club belonged to the youngest Queen now," he casually remarked—her slip-ups in addressing her boss so informally not going unnoticed.

The fidgety blonde opened her mouth to answer, but her boss beat her to it.

"It does. But like you said, Felicity is good at solving IT issues. I told my sister that Felicity could help."

"That's very generous of you offering to help after hours," Mark said to Felicity. It took a great effort not to roll his eyes and let the disdain seep into his voice. It was so typical of a self-centered, privileged asshole like Queen to take advantage of his assistant. He must think nothing of it considering everything in life had been handed to him since birth. Meanwhile, people like himself and Felicity had to bust their asses for everything they got.

"Yes, well, my job is very important to me—which I should probably get started on." Her gaze briefly flicked toward her boss again.

Something seemed off, Mark thought. Felicity was acting more high-strung than usual, and he found her statement about valuing her job odd. Why would Queen doubt her professionalism? Unless this was about more than her secretarial duties. Was Felicity worried that his mentioning their acquaintance would upset Queen? Was her job tied to pleasing him in other ways outside of the office? She seemed to care an awful lot about his opinion.

Hiding his annoyance and disappointment, Mark said, "Sure. But if you finish early, come find me. My offer stands."

Queen's head tilted when Felicity replied, "I'll keep that in mind."

An intense, silent look passed between the pair. Mark studied them, unnerved by what appeared to be an entire conversation happening without a word spoken. He shifted uncomfortably, feeling like an outsider—and wondering for the first time if there really was something to the affair rumors he'd heard floating around the office.

Finally, their staring contest broke.

"I'll see you later, Mark," Felicity said and dutifully followed Queen toward the cordoned off corridor.

Mark forced a smile, which quickly turned into a glare at the turn of Queen's back. Who asked their assistant to come to a club late at night? And why would Queen even need to be here with her? Surely, he had more pressing matters as CEO to attend to. Where was his sister, who actually managed the club now? And what was with those cryptic looks?

Mark returned to the bar to find his friends—now fully immersed in their high—laughing and guzzling down another round of drinks.

"Was that the chick?" Jordan questioned. "You were right about her ass. She always wear skirts like that in the office? You're lucky you can concentrate at all, man."

"Was she here with Queen? Told you you got some competition," Kyle ribbed. "When he wasn't glaring daggers at you, he looked like he was going to spread her across the bar and fuck her right there just to stake his claim." He threw his head back and chuckled at his own ridiculous joke.

Mark balled his fists at his sides, resisting the urge to clobber his friends. After all his talk of getting the girl, he'd been completely humiliated in front of them. Not to mention that Kyle was probably right, and Queen could be spreading Felicity out on a flat surface as they speak and giving her the release Mark had been fantasizing about and working towards for weeks. Maybe it was too risky for them to fool around in the office—especially with all their walls made of glass—so they came to Verdant instead.

"Fuck it," he muttered and reached for the pill in his pocket. This night wasn't going at all like he'd planned, and he refused to let it be a total waste. He'd let the drug do its work to lift his mood, and maybe he could find that redhead from earlier. At least she'd seemed appreciative of what he had to offer. There was no way he was going home alone tonight.

* * *

This was the best night ever, Mark thought as he headed to the bar for another drink. He'd been on the top of the world since he'd popped that pill. His head felt like it was floating, and his senses sharpened. Colors became incredibly vivid, and the vibrations of the music pulsated through his body in time with his heartbeat. His mood had instantly lifted and euphoria took over. It wasn't quite as intense as the high he got from Vertigo, but it served its purpose well enough.

After doing a round of shots with his friends, they found a group of women to dance with. The lights from the strobe and disco ball swirled together in vibrant streaks over the crowd. At some point, Mark lost his jacket and rolled up his sleeves to stave off the heat from the gyrating bodies around him. Another beer was just what he needed to quench his thirst. He'd have to throw out his gum, too; he'd been chomping on it to keep from clenching his teeth as the drug did its work.

He'd chugged about half of his drink when he heard a voice behind him. Turning, he came face to face with Felicity and grinned. "Hey, you."

She smiled tentatively. "Hey, I'm glad you're still here."

"I told you I would be."

"Sorry if I was a little abrupt earlier. I didn't expect to see you here, and I really had to get started on that inventory system. I didn't mean for things to get so awkward."

He took another swig of beer. "Yeah, what was up with Queen? He seemed tense."

"Oh, he's just got a lot on his mind." Felicity waved her hand in dismissal. "You know, with being CEO and all."

"Sure. I mean, it must be difficult juggling club appearances with investor parties, right?" Mark sneered. "At least here he can pretend to be fashionably late."

The other night his boss had attended a cocktail party at the Queen mansion. It was set up to attract new investors to the company. According to his boss, Queen had showed up over an hour late and the VP, Isabel Rochev, had barely disguised her annoyance the remainder of the evening. Mark, however, wasn't surprised to hear that since Queen was notorious for his tardiness.

"If Oliver is late, it's usually for a good reason. He does more for the company and this city than anyone will ever know," she defended, her chin raised and eyes blazing.

Stunned by her firm retort—and not wanting to ruin the vibe between them—he quickly backtracked. "Right. I was just joking. How about we have that drink now?"

Mark gave her the once-over, not even bothering to be discrete about it. Damn, she was hot. They'd played enough of this cat and mouse game. It was time to help her forget about Queen and make his move.

Felicity eyed the beer in his hand. "Thanks, but I really shouldn't. I managed to squeeze in a short break, but I still have some work to finish up."

He frowned. "You sure? Not even one beer?" She was wound tighter than he thought. What would it take to loosen this chick up? Maybe they should skip the beer and go right to shots. Hell, maybe Jordan had an extra pill for her. That ought to do the trick.

"I'll have to take a rain check," Felicity replied, although she didn't sound that disappointed.

"How are you still on the clock right now?" he shouted over the music and jumble of voices talking around them. His ears had started ringing a bit, but he ignored it. All of his focus was on Felicity.

"Well,"—she cleared her throat and shuffled her feet—"the inventory system needs a lot of work."

"Where's Queen?" The jerk had some nerve taking off and leaving his assistant to clean up his mess.

"He's around." Felicity didn't offer anything more. Instead, she just stared at him.

Mark's gaze was just as intense. He found it difficult to look away from her colored lips. They were even more luscious than he'd thought. He'd rather be chewing on that plump bottom one than the gum in his mouth. He tugged at the collar of his shirt; it must be a hundred degrees in the club. Hadn't Queen ever heard of AC?

"Are you okay?" she blurted out.

"I'm great. Why?"

"You just seem…how many beers have you had?"

That was an odd thing to ask. "A few. You should really have one. It might loosen you up," Mark suggested. "Nobody likes a workaholic."

Felicity reared back as a crinkle formed between her brows. "Excuse me?"

"You should kick back and have some fun for a change. You're Queen's assistant, not his slave."

Her eyes narrowed at that. "I'm nobody's slave, and I work a lot because I happen to love my job. The work I do is important."

"Like getting Queen's coffee and fixing his system so he orders enough liquor to get patrons like me drunk?" he challenged. Couldn't she see that Queen was using her and taking advantage? He thought Felicity was supposed to be smart.

"I refuse to get him coffee—" she retorted but then stopped herself. Despite her abrupt silence, her contorted expression communicated her emotions loud and clear. She was seething. "You know what, you're drunk and I really don't have time for this. Enjoy the rest of your night."

Mark watched, flabbergasted, as Felicity whipped around and strode away from him. Her hips swayed tantalizingly from side to side with her quick gait. She headed back toward the corridor that had been roped off. Cursing under his breath, Mark realized that he'd seriously messed up with her. Not wanting to strike out twice in one night, he sprinted after her.

"Felicity!" he called to her. "Felicity!"

"Mark, now is not a good time," she called over her shoulder.

The corridor was much quieter than the main club area, so her voice was magnified. She didn't sound happy that he'd followed her, which was why he needed to fix this. Otherwise, all his attempts to get on her good side would be for nothing. He reached for her arm and turned her to face him. He couldn't help noticing how soft her skin felt, though he didn't get to enjoy the sensation for long. Felicity quickly yanked her arm out of his grip.

"Look, I'm sorry," he rushed out. "I didn't mean to offend you. The truth is I came to Verdant tonight because I heard you might be here. I like you, and I wanted to spend some time with you outside of the office."

"You like me?" she replied, clearly shocked.

"Yes," he emphasized. "I like you a lot, and I don't know…I guess when I saw you with Queen, I was disappointed. I was hoping to get you all to myself tonight."

"Oh," Felicity murmured.

Mark ran his finger down her arm and stepped forward. She was so close that he could smell the sweet scent of her floral perfume and admire the moist suppleness of her parted lips. Her pretty blue eyes widened, and he swore he saw the same desire he felt reflecting back at him. Without thinking, he leaned in. Finally, he would get a taste.

He was about to rock her entire world. He'd have her up against the nearest wall, kissing the ever-loving hell out of her in seconds. Maybe they didn't have to go all the way back to her apartment afterward. Maybe they could sneak into one of these other rooms, and he could finally hike up that skirt and—at the last second, Felicity turned her head and his lips grazed her cheek instead.

"Mark," she said, "I appreciate the sentiment, but maybe we should talk about this when you're sober." Her phone dinged. Before checking the message, she put some space between them. "I really need to get back to work. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

For the third time tonight, Mark stared at her retreating back and an incredulous rage surged within him. Just because he wasn't sober didn't mean that he didn't know what he was doing. Did she think she was better than him? So what if he wanted to have a little fun? He worked damn hard day in and day out without much recognition from anyone in his department. He deserved to have a night to let loose without some prissy little nerd making him feel ashamed.

"Are you fucking serious right now?" he retorted.

Felicity paused. "What?"

"I tell you that I like you and try to kiss you, and you're seriously gonna walk away? Was all that flirting we've been doing these past weeks bullshit?"

The petite blonde looked at him in alarm. "Mark, I—"

"You think you're better than me just because you're Queen's assistant? You're nothing more than a glorified secretary who probably only got that job on your back or your knees. There isn't anything wrong with the inventory system, is there? You're sleeping with him," Mark accused, cutting off her attempt to speak. "I thought you were supposed to be smart, but you're just like every other office slut doing the boss to get ahead."

"I'm not sleeping with anyone to get ahead. How dare you—"

"You're a fucking tease." He barreled toward her. "That's what you are."

"Mark, calm down. Stop it! Get your hands off me!" she exclaimed and tried to twist out of his grasp. Mark yanked her against him. This was Felicity's own fault. She'd gotten him all riled up; now it was time to follow through on all those unspoken promises. "Mark, let me go! You're hurting me!"

"I know you want me. Stop trying to act so innocent." He swooped down to kiss her but instead of finally getting a taste of those succulent lips, he felt a sharp, shooting pain between his legs.

Mark gasped and hunched to shield his groin, but it was too late. Felicity had already kneed him right in the family jewels. With his senses heightened, it actually felt like she'd removed them completely. Is this what death felt like?

"You bitch," he sputtered. The stream of curses that followed were interrupted when the heel of her palm connected with his nose. The explosion of pain blinded him. He felt blood gush out his nose as his eyes watered.

"Go home, Mark, and sleep it off," Felicity ordered. He couldn't see her walking away, but he heard the click of her heels down the corridor. A couple of beeps sounded, and then a door opened and slammed shut.

Mark sunk against the wall, taking a minute to get his bearings. His head swirled and body ached. What the hell had just happened? And how was he going to explain to his friends that he'd been beat up by a girl?

* * *

If it weren't for an important meeting with his boss today, Mark would've called in sick. In fact, he should've. The withdrawal he'd experienced last night had been rather severe, probably because he hadn't used in a while. Plagued by weird dreams, he could barely get any sleep. One minute he had the chills and the next he was covered in sweat.

By the time he'd finally drifted off, it seemed like moments later his alarm clock was blaring. Mark's head pounded, and his stomach churned. He'd foregone breakfast—unsure if he could keep anything down—and grabbed a large coffee on the way to work. Thankfully, Felicity wasn't in line this morning at Starbucks. Mark didn't remember much of what happened last night beyond her arriving to Verdant with Queen, but he knew it wasn't good.

He vaguely remembered confessing that he liked her, them almost kissing, and possibly her hitting him? The rest was a blur. He didn't even recall how he'd gotten home. Waking up with a busted nose, two black eyes, and bruises his legs, however, filled in some of the blanks. His balls, much to his dismay, felt like they'd been used as a punching bag. Whatever happened, he was sure it hadn't warranted Felicity lashing out at him to that extent. All that pent-up, quirky energy she had clearly masked her aggressive tendencies—and to think he'd actually wanted to get involved with that psycho. It always was the blondes that proved to be unstable. That crazy bitch.

Checking his watch, Mark saw he only had ten minutes before his meeting this morning. He was already running late, and silently cursed when he'd missed the first elevator. It'd been completely full as other last-minute stragglers rushed to make it in on time. A loud ding signaled the second elevator opening, and he finally managed to squeeze in. Just before the doors closed, a hand shot out to halt it. The groans from impatient employees immediately ceased when they saw that it was Oliver Queen who'd stepped in.

Mark readjusted his sunglasses—the oddly sunny day and bright florescent lights were murder on his eyes and would further expose his mangled face—and tucked himself into the corner to avoid being seen. Queen had been a grade-A prick last night, but he was still the boss. The last thing Mark needed was for Queen to see him looking so pitifully disheveled and hungover.

Much to Mark's annoyance, most of the other employees on the elevator got off on the first few floors. It wasn't long before he was alone with Queen as it ascended to the upper levels. He just had to act casual and bide his time. He'd be home free in a matter of seconds.

"You look like you had one hell of a night," Queen commented without turning around.

 _Shit_ , Mark mentally cursed. _Play it cool_.

"It was all right," he drawled.

"What happened to your face?" Although Queen wasn't facing him, the reflective metal doors gave him the perfect view of Mark no matter how hard he tried to melt into the wall.

Clearing his throat and standing up straight—there was no hiding now—he thought up a quick explanation and replied, "A buddy of mine had a little too much to drink last night. He accidentally slammed a door in my face."

"Really?" Queen's tone sharpened. "Because I thought it was my assistant jamming her hand into your face after you attacked her that caused it."

 _Fuck!_

So quick Mark barely had time to react, Queen reached out to push the STOP button. The elevator jerked to a halt, and the abrupt motion caused Mark's head to swim once again. Queen spun around to face him. The dark, hostile look in his eyes made Mark's throat dry up. It took all of his willpower not to cower from such a foreboding glare.

 _Double fuck!_

"Look, I don't know what Felicity told you, but it's not—"

"Felicity didn't tell me anything," Queen retorted. "My bodyguard noticed there was something off about her last night. She looked shaken after meeting up with you again in the club and when she wouldn't tell him why, on a hunch, he decided to check the security feed—which he then showed to me." He took a menacing step forward.

Mark threw up his hands in defense. "Look, I had too much to drink last night. I don't remember much of what happened, but I'm sorry."

"You didn't just have too much to drink." Another step forward. "What was that pill that your friend gave you?" Queen demanded.

How the hell did he know about that? Beads of sweat ran down Mark's back. "What pill?" he questioned, inwardly cursing the involuntary tremor in his voice.

Queen was less than a foot away. Mark's hands trembled as he took in the larger man, who moved like a panther stalking his prey. Although Queen was no angel—he'd had a few run-ins with the law in college for typical bad behavior—Mark didn't expect this peculiar transformation. It was like a switch had been flipped, and Queen became a completely different person.

"Don't you lie to me," he practically growled. "I saw the exchange in the security footage, too. You were doing drugs in my club."

"I thought it was your sister's club."

Definitely not the right thing to say. Queen now stood toe to toe with him, his jaw clenched and eyes blazing. "What did your friend give you? Is he some kind of drug dealer?"

"N-no," he stuttered. "He's not a dealer. Sometimes he just messes around with stuff. I don't know what it was or where he got it."

"Yet you took it anyway."

"It was a party drug. It wasn't a big deal." Mark's back hit the wall as Queen loomed over him.

"You're lucky that neither my bodyguard nor I caught you last night, or else you wouldn't be standing here today."

"Are you threatening me?"

"No, it's a statement of fact. Just like my decision to fire you."

"What?" Mark sputtered. "Are you serious?"

"You're fired," Queen declared. "Get your things and get the hell out of my building. If you go quietly, I won't call security or report you to the SCPD."

"You can't fire me for something that I did outside of the office," he argued.

"Not only are you showing up for work late today after an all-night binge, you sexually harassed my assistant while she was still on the clock. It's my job to protect her and make sure she feels safe at work. Clearly, that's a concern with you around."

Mark whipped off his sunglasses and pointed to his bruised face. "Obviously she can take care of herself. Look what she did to me!" He wanted to smack the smug smirk off of Queen's face that followed but continued evenly, "I don't remember what happened, but I swear I didn't mean to make her uncomfortable. I'll apologize and—"

He gulped as Queen invaded his personal space, clearly trying—and succeeding—to intimidate him. "You won't go anywhere near Felicity ever again if you know what's good for you," he said in a low, menacing voice.

"Are you sure she's _just_ your assistant?" Mark challenged. Queen was acting more like a jealous boyfriend than a boss.

"Felicity is also a friend, and I look out for my friends."

Although Queen didn't physically lay a hand on him, the unspoken threat hung between them. His ominous presence filled up the entire elevator, crowding Mark in and making it difficult to catch his breath. He hated that he actually felt afraid, but something dark and dangerous lurked in the other man's eyes that Mark instinctively knew not to challenge. Not for the first time, he found himself wondering what exactly Queen had done to survive on that deserted island and if that residual savagery would make a target of him next.

Queen added, "You and your friends are no longer welcome at the club either. You have ten minutes to collect your things before I send someone to escort you out." He held his stare a moment longer before restarting the elevator.

When it finally reached Mark's floor, he practically jumped through the doors. He spared a glance over his shoulder as they began to shut again, and Queen's eyes bored into him until he was completely blocked from view. Mark tugged at his now too tight tie despite feeling some relief to be away from him.

He glanced around the office at everyone settling into their cubicles, getting ready for the work day. He silently cursed his bad luck and walked to his office. It had taken him years to get his own space with a window and view of the park nearby. Now he had nothing all because Queen had an inappropriate attachment to his assistant. Any remorse he would've had for his actions last night were terminated along with his job.

"Hey, Mark," his co-worker and friend Ben greeted. He popped his head in, as was the usual morning ritual, and asked, "Do you have that file from—hey, what happened to your face?"

"Minor accident," Mark grumbled while gathering up his personal effects on his desk. He couldn't fit everything in his messenger bag, and so he grabbed a box left behind from a delivery the day before.

"That happen at Verdant last night?" he questioned and frowned. "What are you doing?"

"Getting my stuff. I have ten minutes." He threw his Magic 8 Ball—a gag gift from Kyle one year—a little too forcefully into the box. He doubted that hunk of junk could've predicted this.

"Why? I'm confused." Ben scratched his blond head and entered the office.

"I was just fired."

"Jerome fired you?" he replied in shock, thinking it was their supervisor.

"Will you keep your voice down?" Mark chastised. He hoped to make a quick getaway before anyone else realized what happened. "It wasn't Jerome."

"Okay, sorry to interrupt but I couldn't help overhearing," Sandra, their other co-worker, interjected. She stood in the doorway with a concerned expression on her pretty face. Mark should've asked her out instead of going after Felicity. He'd known Sandra had a crush on him for months, but he'd never acted on it since they worked so closely together. "What's going on, Mark? How could you be fired?

"Oliver Queen," he said through gritted teeth.

Ben's eyes widened. "The _CEO_ fired you? Shit. How the hell did that happen?"

"You barely even interact with him," Sandra pointed out.

How exactly could Mark explain to them what went down without looking like a jerk? The entire office would probably find out within the hour anyway. Gossip traveled fast. Queen told him to go quietly, but he couldn't let that trust fund bastard completely ruin his reputation. Mark wracked his brain for something to tell them when a thought occurred to him.

"You're right, I don't. But I have been getting close to his assistant, Felicity," he hinted and grabbed a few things from inside his desk.

Ben and Sandra exchanged intrigued looks.

"Did something happen between the two of you?" Sandra tried to sound casual, but she couldn't completely disguise her disapproval.

"Almost, but Queen put a stop to that right quick." Mark wouldn't be the only one disgraced in this situation. He couldn't directly get back at Felicity or Queen, but he could throw fuel on the fire of those rumors already going around about them. He'd give his co-workers something juicier to talk about once he was gone. The whole company would be whispering about it before the week ended.

"He fired you because of Felicity?" Ben questioned in disbelief.

Sandra's interest piqued. "So it's true. They're really having an affair? I knew it was weird how she got that job. My friend Stacey told me she's totally unqualified for that position."

"Man, that sucks," Ben muttered. "Did Queen give you those bruises?"

"No!" the pretty brunette exclaimed. "Tell me he didn't."

"I can't talk about it," Mark responded, but gave them a pointed look while taking his pictures off of the walls.

Ben grabbed the last one and handed it to him. "That's totally unfair. You can't let him get away with this."

Mark shrugged. "He's the CEO, and his family owns the company. What can I do?"

"Maybe you can discreetly appeal to Felicity," Sandra suggested despite her blatant distaste for the woman. "If she's got any influence with Mr. Queen, she could probably help save your job at least. She owes you that much."

It would've been a good plan if Felicity wasn't the very reason he was getting canned. Mark sighed pitifully, hamming it up for his captive audience. "Thanks, but I don't think Felicity is going to stick her pretty little neck out for me. She's got her own reasons for staying on Queen's good side."

"Look, what's done is done. But I have a buddy over at Kord," Ben said. "I can make some calls on your behalf and see if he has any job openings there."

Before Mark could respond, someone cleared their throat loudly. In the doorway stood Queen's bodyguard. The man looked even more gigantic and intimidating in the light of day. Ben and Sandra exchanged glances—this would do wonders for his story.

"I'm to escort you downstairs," the man said. Although he kept his tone professional, there was no mistaking the disgust as he looked down upon him.

"Guess my time is up," Mark commented.

Ben and Sandra said goodbye and scurried out of the office. Mark then reached for his full box and started the embarrassingly long walk to the elevator. Heads popped up out of cubicles and whispers followed him. Sandra had already found her gaggle of gossips and was telling them the story. Mark grinned; it had already begun.

Now that his work here was officially done, the first thing he planned to do when he got home was change out of his damn suit into sweats, grab a beer, and call up Jordan. This entire day was already a disaster, and he refused to sit in shame for the rest of it. Another pill would make him forget all of this—at least for a short while.

"What the hell are you smiling about?" the bodyguard demanded, interrupting his musings.

"Nothing."

They were almost to the elevators when the man said in a low voice, "I know you and Felicity get coffee in the same place. That will no longer be the case. I ever catch you around her again, let alone laying a hand on her, you'll be taking all your fluids through an IV. You understand me?"

That quickly wiped the grin from Mark's face, as he didn't doubt the warning was real. First Felicity attacks him, then Queen corners him in the elevator, and now the bodyguard threatens to put him in the hospital. Who the hell were these people?!


	3. Chapter 3: From Russia, with Love

**Hey, guys, thank you for your reviews last chapter! Your enthusiasm for this mini fic fills me with such joy. I really love revisiting these moments in season two and giving them a unique spin. I hope you enjoy this next chapter!**

* * *

 **From Russia, with Love**

In the last two years, Ned had seen more change and chaos at Queen Consolidated than in the past two decades of his career combined. Although some would probably say that "career" was a strong word considering he was only a janitor and not one of the C-suite executives he tidied up after. Personally, he was partial to the term "custodial arts"—a little phrase he'd picked up while watching his daughter's favorite movie, _The Breakfast Club_. It was like an art form, making sure that everything was clean and in working order.

He mopped the floors, shampooed and vacuumed the rugs, washed the white boards and windows, discarded the rubbish, and helped with general maintenance. Whether it was for casual meetings or cutting business deals, it was important that both employees and visiting outsiders saw the executive floor in pristine condition. A clean, organized office put people at ease. It made them trust that the company's operations contained the same ease and efficiency. It made them feel welcomed and productive. To most people in the office, his efforts went unnoticed. His job mostly consisted of being useful yet unseen—a fact he'd gladly accepted long ago. Ned never needed excessive praise or thanks anyway.

After graduating high school in the sixties and getting drafted into the army to serve in Vietnam, he'd wanted a normal job with minimal stress. Fighting for his life while watching his fellow soldiers and friends die in combat had taken its toll. All he cared about when he'd returned home was marrying his high school sweetheart and putting food on the table for his family. After working a string of crappy jobs, the janitorial position at QC had been a godsend. It paid well, offered good benefits, and allowed a generous amount of vacation time. He'd been happy where he was, and never wanted to leave. Even after his children had grown up and his beloved wife had passed, he still wanted to go to work every day. It helped pass the time, and it was nice to be around people rather than stuck alone all day in an empty house.

"Good night, Ned," said Joan. She'd been at Queen Consolidated almost as long as he had. She'd worked her way up to executive assistant for CEOs such as Robert Queen and then Walter Steele. Now she worked for the new vice president, Isabel Rochev.

He and Joan had both known Ms. Rochev when she was just a young intern starting out at QC. She'd been a go-getter even back then, but at least she was more pleasant to be around. Ms. Rochev often had a huge smile on her face, which Ned later realized had more to do with Mr. Queen than her internship experience. He and Joan never spoke of it outright, but they'd been around long enough to see the signs. Joan had been friendly with Moira Queen, the CEO's wife, and had therefore never cared for Ms. Rochev. It was a cruel twist of fate she now had to work for the young woman she'd so vehemently disapproved of.

Ms. Rochev became the epitome of an ice queen since then. After her near hostile takeover of QC, she walked around the office with a scowl on her face and took great pleasure in ordering people about. Her ambition had clearly transformed into a kind of ruthlessness that put many in the office on edge—including the new CEO, Oliver Queen, and his assistant, Felicity Smoak. Rumors swirled about them, too, when he'd plucked her out of IT to become his executive assistant. Ned refused to partake in such gossip. Seeing Miss Smoak—or Felicity as she told him to call her—was one of the bright spots of his day. She was a brilliant young woman with a kind smile and warm disposition. The only reason he even knew how to work his smartphone was because she'd generously taken time out of her busy day to help him get the hang of it. He also appreciated her asking about his kids and his electric train hobby. Even if she wasn't the CEO's assistant, Ned was happy to prioritize her requests.

On this evening's rounds, he would start with the CEO's office first. There had been a lot of extra foot traffic through it—what with QC's involvement in Sebastian Blood's efforts to clean up The Glades and Moira Queen's impending trial for The Undertaking. The company had been in a constant state of upheaval, and it didn't look to be slowing down anytime soon. Ned mopped the floors by the elevators first, since he could hear Mr. Queen in his office with Ms. Rochev arguing yet again. It'd be a lie to say he wasn't glad the younger Queen didn't get along with Ms. Rochev. Ned doubted he knew the true history of Ms. Rochev and the Queen family, but he figured the young CEO's parents would be proud their son didn't trust her so easily. Ned tried not to eavesdrop, but it was difficult considering the rising volume of their voices.

"You were supposed to sign this report at last night's board meeting. Know why you didn't?" Ms. Rochev questioned, her tone filled with accusation rather than curiosity.

The elevator dinged right then, and Felicity came walking out. He waved at her, but she walked right past. Ned didn't take it personally; she seemed distracted and in a rush. He wished her luck as she headed into the lion's den.

"Probably because I didn't attend last night's board meeting," Mr. Queen casually replied.

"Where were you?" Ms. Rochev demanded.

Felicity stopped just outside the office door, looking anxious and unsure about how to interrupt.

"I have other interests outside this company."

"I don't."

"Uh, Mr. Queen," Felicity tentatively interjected.

Ned pushed the mop forward, getting an eyeful of the exchange. He saw Mr. Queen motion for her to wait.

Isabel continued, "I thought you were serious when you said we were partners."

Mr. Queen shifted behind his desk but made no move to get up. "Isabel," he replied, "I missed one meeting."

"This week!" she retorted. "Last week it was two meetings."

Felicity, fidgeting with her hands, moved closer as Mr. Queen leaned forward on his desk.

"Mr. Queen," the blonde tried again.

He gave Felicity a "not now" look and raised a hand to hold her off.

Felicity didn't look appeased and stepped forward again. Ned had to give her credit. Anyone else would've run in the opposite direction with Ms. Rochev's wrath on full display.

"Company-wide revenue is at double digits since you and I took over—"

" _Oliver_ ," Felicity stressed.

Ms. Rochev whipped around, glaring at her, while Mr. Queen inhaled sharply with a somewhat surprised and exasperated look on his face.

Ned almost dropped his mop hearing Felicity interrupt so forcefully—and using her boss's first name, no less. No executive assistant he knew would dare to do such a thing. Either she was very brave or still too new at her job to realize her mistake.

"I'm sorry to interrupted your— _grrr_ ," she went on, making a cat-like clawing gesture with her hands. Ned stifled a chuckle. "Um, I need to talk to you about your plans for this evening…with Mr. Harper."

Mr. Queen stared back at her and bit his lip, probably to contain the reprimand coming. Ned had never heard Mr. Queen raise his voice to Felicity, but there was a first time for everything. He held his breath, hoping the scolding wouldn't be that severe. Ms. Rochev, meanwhile, stared him down waiting for a response.

"You'll have to excuse me," Mr. Queen said to Ms. Rochev so casually that Ned did a double take.

"We have work to do. It's important," the brunette argued.

Mr. Queen and Felicity shared a knowing look before he stood up. He buttoned his suit jacket and said, "So are my…evening plans." A look of utter disbelief crossed Ms. Rochev's face. "I'm sorry." He walked out of the office with Felicity hot on his heels.

"We are going to have to work on your excuses," he muttered to her.

"You're right."

Ned nearly forgot he was supposed to be mopping when they approached. He was too busy watching the way the pair reacted to each other. Why would Felicity have to come up with a better excuse? Did he tell her to purposefully interrupt when Ms. Rochev was on a rampage so he'd have an out? That would explain the lack of reprimand. But Ned got the feeling that something else was going on. Why would Mr. Queen and Felicity be leaving together so late instead of dismissing Ms. Rochev and discussing his plans in the office?

"Oh, hi, Ned. I didn't see you there," Felicity greeted as Mr. Queen pushed the button for the elevator.

"Hello, Felicity. Mr. Queen," he replied.

Mr. Queen nodded a hello. He had a unique presence. He was strong and, at times, charming like his father, but there was also something a little more intimidating about the way he carried himself. His eyes roamed over Ned—like he was assessing a possible threat rather than an employee—before returning to Felicity. Ned hadn't seen a look like that since he was in the army.

"I hope we didn't ruin the floors on you," Felicity said, looking down to make sure they weren't standing on a wet spot.

"Nope, you're fine. I haven't got to that side yet."

"Good. How's your daughter doing? The new baby is due soon, right?"

"Any day now," Ned confirmed. "I'm looking forward to being a grandpa again. They're waiting on the gender reveal, but we're hoping lucky number three will finally be a girl."

"I guess that'd be up to your son-in-law. You know, because it's the guy who determines the sex of the child. An egg is an X chromosome and sperm is either an X or a Y—not that you probably want to be thinking about your son-in-law's sperm. I mean, we all know _how_ pregnancy occurs but the details might be—" She stopped abruptly mid-babble when Mr. Queen placed a hand on her shoulder. While Felicity's cheeks turned pink, the CEO looked to be fighting a grin.

The blonde sent him a thankful smile before saying to Ned, "I'll keep my fingers crossed for you."

The elevator dinged. It was only then that Mr. Queen took his eyes off of Felicity. He held the door open for her.

"Thank you," Ned replied, chuckling. "You're a real sweet girl, Felicity. Enjoy your night."

"You, too. See you tomorrow." She got on the elevator.

"It was nice meeting you, Ned," Mr. Queen politely added.

Just before the doors closed, Ned watched the pair turn toward each other and whisper. He couldn't help but smile, pleasantly surprised by what he'd witnessed in just that brief exchange. The smile didn't last long, though, as Ms. Rochev came stomping out of the office. With a huff and not so much as a glance in his direction, she got on the elevator—leaving behind a trail of footprints for him to clean once again.

* * *

After days of nonstop rain, it was finally a sunny day in Starling City. The temperature had still dropped uncomfortably low, but Ned wasn't one to complain—even if it did make his arthritis flare. He pushed his cleaning cart into the CEO's office.

"Good afternoon, Felicity," he greeted the young blonde.

It took a moment for her to respond. When she did, Ned noticed her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "Hi, Ned."

"Everything all right?"

"Uh, yeah. It's fine. Just a long day," Felicity said. "Jet lag and all."

Ned nodded sympathetically. "Will Mr. Queen be out of the office for a bit? I'd like to get started on his windows."

"Now would be a perfect time. He's got meetings all afternoon."

"Sorry I couldn't get to them sooner. I'd hoped to finish them before you guys got back from Russia, but I was backlogged with maintenance requests," he explained.

Felicity clicked away on her computer. "No worries."

"How was the trip, by the way? It must've been fun to travel with the boss overseas and see the sights," Ned commented.

She paused, her entire body going rigid. Her expression fell for a second before she forced another smile. Was the trip to Russia the reason for her somber mood? He already regretted mentioning it.

"It was…productive. And cold. Very cold," she muttered, her tone signaling that's all she wanted to say on the subject.

Ned took the hint and got right to work. Every so often his eyes would drift over to Felicity. Something was bothering her today. Her slumped shoulders and permanent frown as she worked was so different from the babbling and bubbly woman he was used to. Had something happened between her and Oliver? The younger Queen had quite the reputation with women in his day—still did, in fact. He better have kept his hands to himself.

Just as Ned was finishing, brisk footsteps echoed from the corridor. Mr. Queen had returned. Ned quickened his pace, not wanting to cause the CEO any inconvenience. Before entering the office, Mr. Queen stopped at Felicity's desk.

"Can you deliver this to Isabel's office please?" he asked her.

The young executive turned toward the office when Felicity called out, "Why her?" Mr. Queen stopped in this tracks. "I mean, besides the obvious leggy model reason."

"It just kinda happened," came his quick and somewhat awkward reply. Ned paused, shocked to hear the usually confident CEO sound so unsure of himself. "It didn't mean anything."

Something definitely happened in Russia, but not between Mr. Queen and Felicity. It sounded like something happened with Ms. Rochev. Ned shook his head. He hoped he was reading too much into their conversation. It would be a shame if the young Queen fell into the same trap as his father with that snake in disguise.

Glancing through the glass wall, he caught Felicity's wounded expression before she averted her eyes to her desk. Ned's heart clenched for her. He'd recognize that look anywhere. He'd nursed his own daughter through a broken heart or two over the years. Ned had suspected Felicity had a crush on her boss, but the pain he saw on her face ran deeper. Judging by Mr. Queen's remorseful look as he stared down at her, it seemed he was aware of it, too.

"Hey," Mr. Queen murmured.

Felicity lifted her chin, though it took a second before she could meet his gaze.

The young man continued in a low, soothing voice, "Because of the life that I lead, I just think that it's better to not…be with someone I could _really_ care about."

Ned's eyebrows shot up as he took in the intense and surprisingly intimate way Mr. Queen addressed Felicity. Maybe her crush wasn't so one-sided, after all. But why was he pushing her away? Was Mr. Queen worried about what people would say if they dated? If so, he was already too late. Most of the company already gossiped about the nature of their relationship.

No, it had to be something else. The way Mr. Queen talked, his own heart was at risk of being broken. Did he sleep with Ms. Rochev because he was in denial about his growing feelings for Felicity? That was certainly one way to sabotage a potential relationship. Ned shook his head. Young men today wasted so much time battling their feelings. In his day, when you found a good woman, you courted her and married her before someone else beat you to it. There was always another guy just waiting for his chance.

Despite Felicity's clear disappointment, the blonde gave a slight nod and stood up. The older man, however, kept his eyes on Mr. Queen. The young CEO looked remorseful—shutting his eyes with a grimace. When Felicity spoke again, he whipped around.

"Well, I think—" Felicity paused, fiddling with the paper in her hand. Another charged look passed between them, and Ned, along with Mr. Queen, waited with bated breath for what she had to say. "I think you deserve better than her."

Mr. Queen stood frozen in his spot long after Felicity had walked away. He looked utterly floored by her statement. He didn't move until Ned gathered his things and rolled his cleaning cart out of the office.

"Oh, Ned, is it? I didn't realize you were here," Mr. Queen commented, the spell finally broken.

"Just tending to your windows. You should have a perfect view of the city now."

"Thank you."

Without thinking, Ned asked, "Is Felicity all right?"

"Hm? Oh, yes. She's fine," he answered distractedly. "I think she's just trying to…process after Russia. Lots of work to catch up on."

"Felicity reminds me of my wife a little bit. She had a kind heart, too."

"Had?"

"She passed away a couple of years ago."

"I'm sorry."

"I miss her every day. We were high school sweethearts. I knew she was the one for me the moment I laid eyes on her. Can't beat a blonde," he said, earning a hint of a smile from Mr. Queen. "Of course, I couldn't actually marry her until after I got back from the war. I was a different man when I came back," he explained. "Broken, you could probably say."

Mr. Queen swallowed what looked like a lump in his throat. Ned knew he understood, having experienced his own traumas.

"But my wife never wavered. I'm not sure I would've gotten through it if not for her."

The young CEO cleared his throat. "You were a lucky man."

"In some ways, yes. But I like to think I was a smart man. Not in the usual way, because I ain't ever gone to any fancy schools or worked an office job. But I knew an amazing woman like my wife didn't come around every day," he explained, looking in the direction of where Felicity had just left. "If you wait too long, you might miss your chance."

Mr. Queen's eyes widened slightly. Ned gave him a small, knowing grin. "Have a good day, Mr. Queen."

* * *

After the late, agonizing night he'd had, Ned would surely regret getting into work so early. He'd spent most of the prior afternoon and last night in the hospital. Like many other seniors and citizens of Starling City, he'd got his flu shot yesterday morning as suggested by his doctor. Unfortunately, it'd done more harm than good.

The Count, a former drug dealer for Vertigo imprisoned by The Arrow, had escaped during The Undertaking and returned to terrorizing the city. He'd substituted the flu shot with a more potent form of Vertigo. Even the assistant district attorney had been affected right in the middle of the Moira Queen trial. Ned had never done drugs, and he never wanted to after experiencing such excruciating withdrawals. He didn't have the money to buy the next dose The Count was pushing and, even if he did, he wouldn't want it.

The hospital staff had tried to keep him comfortable as best they could, but even their hands were tied. Nothing they gave him to counteract the drugs worked. He'd turned on the TV in his room to watch his favorite sitcom, trying to take his mind off of the pain, and saw the breaking news interruption. Moira Queen had not only been acquitted of all charges for her part in the Undertaking, but The Count held Felicity Smoak hostage at Queen Consolidated an hour before. Apparently, QC had been looking into finding a cure.

Ned breathed a sigh of relief when the news anchor reported Felicity was okay. The Arrow had shot and killed The Count with three arrows to the chest. The guy fell through the window and landed on a car below. It was a bit excessive considering one arrow could've done the job just fine, but maybe Starling City's hooded vigilante had had enough of chasing The Count. There were mixed feelings throughout the city about The Arrow, formerly known as The Hood. He'd been dropping bodies left and right last year, which concerned many citizens and infuriated the SCPD. This fall, though, it'd been reported that The Arrow had stopped killing the criminals he took down. So much for that.

Personally, Ned hadn't been much of a fan. He believed in respect for the law and anyone who put on a uniform to protect their country. Vigilantes didn't follow the same legal or moral code. They got in the way and diverted time and resources away from the cops actually doing their job. The thought of a hooded wannabe hero running around the city still made him uneasy, but he couldn't be all bad if he'd saved Felicity's life, right? If The Arrow hadn't intervened, would QC still have been able to develop a nonaddictive treatment?

QC was bustling that morning with the media outside wanting a quote from the CEO about his mother's acquittal and The Count incident. Security was also heightened. After clocking in, Ned went straight to the executive suite. He had to check out the damage and clean up. As expected, glass littered the floor. A tarp with police tape was placed over the gaping hole in the window. Security and maintenance men talked in the corner.

Much to his surprise, Felicity was already seated at her desk and looked to be working. He frowned, expecting her to have taken the day off. She surely earned it.

"Felicity," Ned greeted. "I saw the news last night. You all right?"

"A little sore, but otherwise I'm fine," she answered. "How are you? Did you get the cure last night?"

"I did, thank you. It was very brave of you to try and save the city."

"It wasn't all me. The Arrow had a lot to do with it."

"Did he hurt you?"

She frowned. "You mean The Count?"

Ned shook his head. "The Arrow."

Felicity stared back in surprise. "No, of course not. He'd never hurt me. He saved my life and the city."

"I saw on the news what he did to The Count. It was pretty gruesome."

"He did what he had to do," she said in a firm voice, "considering The Count held a syringe to my neck. Whatever you may have heard about him, don't believe it. The man is a hero." Her gaze shifted to something behind him, and she stood up. "Oliver."

Everyone else stood up a little straighter at the CEO's arrival. Security approached him, but he waved them off and went around the desk to Felicity.

"I thought I gave you the day off."

"You did, but I came in anyway."

"Felicity, you should be home resting," he lightly scolded.

"I'm better off at work. Trust me," she replied. A silent, knowing look passed between them.

Placated, his tone softened. "You okay?"

"Just some bruises. Nothing life-threatening," she tried to joke. "How about you?" Felicity touched his arm.

"I'll be fine." He sounded much too somber for a man whose mother was just acquitted of conspiracy and murder charges. Apparently, a lack of conviction still wasn't enough to assuage the guilt of what had happened, nor should it, in Ned's opinion. Those people in The Glades were gone forever, including Mr. Queen's best friend, Tommy Merlyn.

Mr. Queen reached for Felicity's wrist, which had a discolored, blackish-purple ring around it. She must've been tied up. Their eyes locked. "Does it hurt to type?"

"I'll manage," she murmured. "Thank you."

Ned sensed her gratitude was about more than his concern. Mr. Queen looked to be drinking it in, like a man who'd just wandered the desert and finally discovered an oasis.

Suddenly, Ned felt like an intruder as he watched the tender moment unfold. Judging by the security guards and maintenance men's looks to each other, they must've sensed it, too. For the first time, Ned noticed Mr. Queen's personal security guard, John Diggle. He must've really been distracted not to see the tall, hulking man. Unlike everyone else in the room, he watched the CEO and his assistant with a certain affectionate glint in his eye.

"Lunch at Big Belly Burger later?" Mr. Queen offered. Ned wondered if he even realized his thumb was caressing Felicity's bruised wrist.

"I'd love that," she replied rather breathlessly.

Finally, the two realized they weren't alone and broke their intense stare. Ned bit back a smile. He'd wondered about Mr. Queen's true feelings toward Felicity, but his doubts were quelled witnessing that one exchange. However long it took that boy to finally build up his nerve and ask out his assistant, it didn't really matter; he was already a goner.


End file.
